


under these stars, we met

by raeryn



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Character Death but they reincarnate, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raeryn/pseuds/raeryn
Summary: I love you. Have I told you that today? In any world, any place, any time we meet, I love you.In which Marinette and Adrien meet throughout reincarnations.





	under these stars, we met

**Author's Note:**

> I started this 1.5 years ago and it's finally posted???

“Do you ever think we’ll live again?”

The little girl kicked her legs in the river. Her parents didn't let her wander this far out, especially so late at night, but it was her secret spot. Their secret spot.

Because here, which was also conveniently not too far from her favorite bed of lilies, laid the best place to watch the stars.

Her companion rolled his eyes. “Duh,” he replied lazily. “Everyone reincarnates. Mama says I was a cat in my past life.”

“You are most definitely an animal.”

His eyes narrowed at the tense. “In my _past_ life, Marinette.”

She shrugged. “Just telling you how I see it. Unlike you, Adrien, I was probably a princess.”

Adrien laughed, guffawing so hard he almost fell into the river. Marinette had half the mind to push him in, but even she wouldn't go that far. Here, so far from the village, so dark at night, Adrien would probably be lost to the never ending current.

Her parents would kill her if they knew she and Adrien snuck out here this often.

But still, she couldn't stop. Both of them were drawn to this area, to the stars that shined so brightly here.

Some believe the stars were Gods. Marinette didn't know about that, but watching these beautiful lights, believing they were made of fate, the ones who guided the reincarnations, was a nice thought. After all, the stars twinkled. They must be watching them back.

Adrien’s never ending fit of giggles were ruining the moment.

“Oh, stop it,” Marinette groaned.

“You, a _princess_?”

“Yes. Can you imagine the life the royals would have held?”

“Better than this, I imagine,” he commented dryly, picking at his clothes.

Marinette eyed his dirty clothing. Her own weren’t much better. “Alya died just last week.”

Adrien quieted. “How can I forget?” She was their age, no more than twelve, young and carefree, but that didn’t matter much here. The plague didn’t care for how old or how innocent you were. Not when disease and illness threatened anyone and everyone.

Marinette drew her knees up. “You’re my only best friend left, you know that? So don’t leave me.”

“Don’t be gross,” Adrien said, but nodded anyways. “Of course I’ll stay here. Who else will play in Nana’s lily beds when I’m gone?”

Marinette gasped. “So it _was_ you!” He laughed as Marinette ripped out grass and threw it on him. He started to run away from the offending leaves, but Marinette was relentless at chasing him. “Do you know how much trouble I got in for that? And it wasn’t even my fault!”

They both loved lillies, though Marinette would argue her love was much more tender. Adrien loved to pick and pull, and Nana would always figure them out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” her best friend shouted through his loud laughter. “I am _so_ terribly sorry, my _dear_ princess. What can I ever do the repay the favor?”

“Nobody talks like that,” sniffed Marinette.

“I’m sure they at least do this,” Adrien stated, picking Marinette’s hand up and kissing it. “Don’t they, princess?”

“Oh, that’s disgusting.” As she ripped her hand away, Adrien let out another peal of laughter.

The stars twinkled above them.

Maybe they can play like this forever.

 

 

 

“It’s the plague.”

Children never lived long here. Marinette had a lot of friends, but most have already passed.

It seemed she was next.

“Mama, Papa? Where are you? I can’t see you. Why is everything so dark?”

She heard a sob, but it sounded distant, too far away to reach.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” There was a hand that gripped her, warm and comforting.

“Mama? Where’s papa?”

“I’m with you, too.” Her father’s hand caressed her forehead, large and rough, but warm nonetheless.

“Am I...going to die? Like all my other friends?”

“No, no, darling. You’ll be just fine. You’ll be in the skies, among the stars that you love.”

She turned, trying to find her parents, trying to follow the sounds of their voices. Her arms was reaching out but...she could see nothing but pitch black.

Marinette knew she was going to die. She was going to leave and...

“Do you think...do you think I can see Adrien again? Just once more?”

There was a silence. A dreadful one, one where Marinette thought she would never be able to meet her best friend again. But then her papa said, “Of course you’ll see him again,” and all worry flooded out of her.

“For now, go to sleep, okay? You’ll see Adrien tomorrow.”

“Okay…” She started to drift—into that darkness, that scary, neverending black, and she was thinking about just how tired and terrified she was when—

“Mari!”

“Adrien?” That was undeniably Adrien’s voice. No matter how annoying he was, she would recognize it anywhere.

“Adrien, what are you doing here? Where are your parents?”

“Mari!” There was Adrien’s voice again, louder than her parents. Finally, Marinette felt a faint thud on the side of her bed.

“Marinette, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Adrien…” She couldn’t see him. She could only see that dark, dark void.

“Adrien, please, you must go home—your parents must be worried sick—”

“No! I need to speak to Marinette.” A hand clutched hers. He whispered, “Do you think you’ll live again?”

She wanted to grin. Instead she coughed—a horrible hacking in her throat that burned her insi des. Her parents were at her side in an instant. And for a moment, it subsided. Marinette breathed heavily, trying to rein in breath in order to say, “Of course. Everyone reincarnates.”

“Then we’ll meet again, won’t we? And we’ll be together.”

“Where?

“Under the stars, okay? We’ll play together again, under the stars, where they shine.”

“They shine everywhere, Adrien.”

“Then we’ll be together everywhere. Anywhere. _Forever._ ”

 

 

 

He buried her with lilies.

 

 

 

 

 

A little boy stood in front of a grave, far too young to understand the weight of the promise he was about to make.

“I’ll meet you again,” he whispered. “Under the stars, we will meet again.”

Above them, the stars twinkled and heard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Princess, I am your humble servant,” he told her, bowing low.

She regarded him, her heart breaking. When he looked up, his eyes shone with understanding.

_This is not you._

_It’s okay,_ he seemed to be replying.

“Thank you,” she said curtly, though her mind was screaming, _You are my friend, not my servant. You are my equal in every way._ Still, Princess Marinette held her head up high in front of their audience to demonstrate her position. But her heart tugged, pained by the gesture. The slight crease in his eyebrows expressed that he felt the same, but he stayed on his knees.

“Stand, Knight Adrien,” her father’s boomed and echoed throughout the chamber. “I will entrust her to you.” Her father’s head leaned forward a bit, his eyes peering into Adrien’s with a knowing look.

Growing up, Adrien had always, _always_ been her bodyguard. Even before his formal induction, he was the son of her father’s most trusted Captain. He was male. He was older. He always protected her.

He was her friend.

This helped her many times: when she was feeling lonely and needed a companion, she wanted to and could talk to Adrien, not needing to fear breaking social etiquette because of how close they could be, thanks to Adrien’s relation to her. The Captain of the Guard’s son. The guard-in-training. The knight.

But now she was of age, only one thought pummeled through her.

_This is all he can ever be to you._

Adrien bowed again, his entire being shivering with servitude. When they met hers, she read from them, _I am okay._

 

 

 

 

“So you’ll protect me then? Put down your life for me when blades point my way?”

They strolled idly in the garden. Marinette wished she could pretend that it was because she wished to give her newly knighted guard a tour of the magnificent palace she lives in, but she knew she simply wished to spend more time with her best friend in their favorite hideout.

“That’s what I’m here for, _Princess._ ”

Her bodyguard said the name with dry humor, sarcasm dripping off his lips. Marinette told herself to roll her eyes—that’s what’s appropriate here—but the nickname pulls something at her.

“Good,” she said, acting haughty. Marinette tilts her head, giving him a one look over. “I guess my father has picked someone _almost_ adequate. I expect you to throw yourself in front of any danger for me, yes? Even if that includes garden water splashing onto my expensive gown?” Marinette twirled towards the fountain for emphasis.

“Like I said,” he said, bowing dramatically, to the point where Adrien placed one knee on the garden cobblestone. His eyes peeked at her beneath his bangs with playfulness. “That’s what I’m here for.”

She resisted the urge to giggle and kept up her act of pure and utter superiority and all of that _I’m-above-you_ nonsense. Marinette found their bench next to the patch of lilies—their favorite flower bed in their garden—and sat. “Come and sit with me, _knight._ ”

Adrien laughed freely and rolled his eyes at her teasing, but obeyed. He grabbed shears from his pocket, kept there since he knew Marinette would take him to their garden, and tended the bed of lilies. He took one despite the definite scolding he’ll get from the royal gardener and held up his hand.

“M’lady,” he offered.

Marinette took it, twirling it once in her fingers. It was a beautiful pink, almost red, flushed with vivid pigments of white. One of her favorites. She didn’t bother feigning arrogance now. Her act dissipated as she genuinely looked at her dear friend and said, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Only favorites for my favorite Princess.”

She wished he didn’t say things like that. Not that because Marinette was afraid of flirting or speaking with such audacity, but because she was afraid of it with _him._ Everytime Adrien gives her a line like that, it’s just another painful reminder that he is going to be—

 _is,_ she noted—just her knight.

“The stars are bright tonight,” she said finally, ignoring the thundering of her heart. Her fingers clench around the stem of the lily he gave. They shouldn’t need to do this. They should be _allowed._

Her best friend looked up. Adrien nodded once before saying, “I always loved looking at the stars.”

“Me, too. Remember when you used to sneak me out of the tower, just so we can go stargazing?”

“Hush now, Princess. You wouldn’t want to let any spies hearing that your own knight broke your father’s rules.”

Marinette snorted. “You were eight. Everyone breaks rules when they’re eight.”

“You more so than anyone. How many times have you ran away from the castle?”

“How many times have _you_ ran away with me?”

“Touché, Princess.”

She hummed in reply and they basked under the warm starlight a little longer, before Adrien steeled himself and pulled out a box her kept in his pocket. “I—I got you something.”

“As a gift for _your_ knighting?” Marinette asked while raising an eyebrow, though her hands were already moving toward the box Adrien was holding.

He chuckled. “Truth to be told, I’ve had this made for a while now, but wasn’t sure if I should give it. I didn’t want to—” Adrien cut himself off, pausing. He took a deep, breath, “I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“As long as it’s not a ring,” his best friend replied flippantly. Adrien immediately tensed, heating up. No matter how many years it’s been since they’ve been friends, he can never understand her quick mouth and her bravery to say whatever is on her mind.

It was obvious she was just as aware of...of whatever it was between them. The air between their relationship, the thing that was much more than “best friends forever.”

“It’s not,” he stammered and, since it was absolutely necessary to remind her, decided to add, “Princess.”

Marinette’s eyes dart to his for a quick second as she noticed the title. She opened the box.

“A hair pin? Of the fleur-de-lis? Didn’t think that was your style.”

“No,” Adrien agreed, taking the pin from her hands. “But it is yours.” He brushed his finger through her hair, clipping her bangs back with the pin, ignoring the shiver she gave when his skin touched hers and the trail of fire that danced down his fingers. “To always remind you who you are: the Princess who supports her country, who always cares for everyone and anyone.” He looked at her knowingly. “That you’ll always be there, even in the dark of night, under the skies and the stars.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Princess!” _It was Adrien!_

“Adrien! Here!” Marinette stepped out of the hidden closet. Adrien’s eyes immediately darted to hers. The rebels might not have known about the secret chamber in the hallway of the palace, but Adrien, the knight ordered to protect her at any cost, did.

“Princess,” he whispered, tugging her, “we need to go.”

“Adrien, we can’t. My parents—”

“Marinette.” She looked at him then, because he never called her by her name, not since the day he learned what the word _status_ meant. She looked at him then, because of the hurt in his voice.

Adrien was crying. “His majesty is in the hallway. The Queen is at Capitol Center.”

She knew before he said anything what he meant. But she still gasped anyways, trying to muffle her sobs with her hand.

“Why?” she sobbed. “They were kind, loving.”

“Perhaps too much.” Adrien’s expression was regretful. “The country was too weak. The neighboring countries were growing stronger. Citizens were suffering.”

“They didn’t need to kill my parents! What did they do, _what did they do,_  Adrien?”

“Mari, please!” Adrien’s eyes shone with fear. “We cannot stay here. The rebels will come back at any minute. We have to go!”

“Okay, okay…” She wiped her tears and stood up. Marinette thought about her parents, _dead,_ and her heart filled with anger. She squared her shoulders. “Okay, let’s go.”

 

 

 

They dashed through the palace that Marinette had grew up in. That Adrien had grown up in.

She had ran in these corridors a million times. As a kid, playing hide-and-seek; as a teenager, escaping her horrid instructor.

But never like this.

Marinette forced herself to brace against the sight of the bodies scattering her treasured home, all recognizable. She didn’t let herself look away, to be disgusted or frightened by the deaths of people she knew; she faced head the reality head on, respecting even their deaths.

Adrien had made her change into a pair of pants and a tunic from the servant's chambers. Despite her protests that night gown would do, that she would only need one slash from his sword to shorten it and free her legs to run, he had shook his head and refused. “Pants,” Adrien demanded, adamant, not even listening to Marinette’s argument that it would be a waste of time to make a detour to the servant’s quarters.

Now she knew why.

“What are you doing?” Marinette hissed, even as the horror of Adrien’s plans seeped into her heart. “You’ll never pass for a princess!”

“Aw, what about my good looks?” Marinette glared for a beat, but it began to dissipate. Tears stained the corner of her eyes. His joking demeanor faded at once. “Mari, it’s fine. It’ll only be for a minute, just to trick them. No one but royals wear gaudy dresses like these, so they won’t even care to take a closer look.”

“You don’t need to be doing this. You’re my guard; you’re supposed to protect me, not pose as me.”

“I _am_ protecting you.”

“No, no you’re not.” She clutched to his shoulders, bare thanks to the exquisite dress he wore. “If you were to protect me, you would never leave my side.”

“Marinette, please.”

“Adrien, don’t leave me.” She kissed him then, knowing he was always weak to those, easy to persuade afterwards. “Please don’t leave me. You’re the only one I have left.”

He held on to the hands that refused to let go. “Mari, I have to. I made a promise to His Majesty that I would protect you.” He tucked a stray strand under the cap she wore to hide her long locks. “I swore on my life.”

“Who cares! It was a stupid oath Papa made every knight swear, it doesn’t mean anything when you’ll—”

“It means something to me.” He pulled her away, holding her by her shoulders. “It meant everything to me that day.”

She knew it then, that even with the teasing looks he gave her when he was knighted and she demanded to say he was loyal to only her, that he meant it. That he would do anything, even lay down his life, to see her safe.

“Adrien, please…” Tears slipped from her eyes; she didn’t—couldn’t—see this through. “I can fight! I can stop them.”

“Princess,” he said, and she her heartstrings pulled. Why did he have to use that name? He said it like he had to do this, like there was no other option that him giving up his life to save hers. “You do not need to. I am your knight. I will take care of it.” Adrien kissed her forehead. “Stay safe, and live.”

Before Marinette could add anything or pull him in to kiss him properly one last time, he pushed her into the carriage stationed near the castle’s back exit. Her horse began galloping. The carriage moved along.

“Adrien!” she yelled, before the horse could go too far. Marinette tried opening the door that Adrien had shoved her through, but it was locked, the driver adamant.

“Milady, I can’t stop! If nothing, I must protect you.”

“No!” Marinette screamed, trying to break through the doors but they were unrelenting. Royal carriages. Unbreakable, even now.

Her shoulders shook. Marinette’s hands burned raw from clawing at the doors. Adrien had saw through everything. He...he was going to—

“Meet me again!” Marinette screamed, shoving as much of her face she could through the minimal window opening. “Under the stars!”

She didn’t know he heard. She didn’t even know if he was still alive. She only knew that she left, safe and unharmed, leaving him in the mob that would surely kill him the moment they saw the silver of the stolen wig.

The only thing that remained was their promise that they will see each other once again, below the stars where everything began.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Princess Marinette was executed today. The revolution has finally ended, and so has the monarchy. Down with the royals!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Ugh,” Adrien groaned. “It was one mistake, who did he think he was…”

He lugged his sack of metal scraps over his shoulder. Adrien needed to bring them to the tradesmen by three if he wanted to keep his job. Time wasn’t a problem, but Adrien was sure his barely restrained anger would explode any second if he kept thinking about the spat he practically had with his boss.

Seething, Adrien kept his eyes trained to the ground, half-heartedly dodging obstacles. There was a pair of shoes in front of him, and he registered them too late. Adrien crashed into them and the owner of the soles. Several scraps of the metal fell out of his load.

“Oh, sorry ma’am, I didn’t see you there…”

Adrien looked up, seeing a kind elderly smiling at him. She held an arm out, seemingly wanting to help him up.

“No, it’s alright. I can get up fine myself.” Adrien dusted off the dirt from his pants. He picked up the scraps, opening the pack to shove them back in, annoyed at how small and cramped the bag was.

“Here, let me,” the woman he bumped into said. Before Adrien could protest, she grabbed the bag and rearranged the metal he had in there, and placed the ones that had fallen out back in. “There you are.”

“Thanks!” He stood up, swinging the bag behind him. “Sorry for bumping into you again…”

She waved a hand. “Don’t mind it. We all have those days.”

He grinned sheepishly. His anger seemed to dissipate in a second; the lady was so warm and sweet. “We sure do.”

“Where are you headed, young man?”

He started walking down the street alongside the old lady. “A blacksmith’s shop down the road. I’m an apprentice right now and..” Adrien shrugged.

“I see. Working the hard hours then? Being an apprentice is no easy job.”

“Yeah, it’s tough, but it’s work. I’ve got to make a living some how.” He focused on the street, making sure not to hit anything else this time.

“Are you happy?”

Adrien looked up at her, startled. The old lady was staring intently at him. Her question came out of nowhere, and Adrien had only one reply: “What?”

“Are you happy?” she repeated.

“I mean…” He looked to the side, confused. What kind of random question was that? “I guess? I could do with a better boss, one that is a little _appreciative_ but...” Adrien grinned. “Life is pretty good. Money’s hard but, I’ve got an amazing wife back home. Now if master would just let me go back to the village _one_ weekend to see her…”

Adrien blinked at the woman smiling softly at him. Sheepishly, he scratched his neck. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear all this blabbing.”

“Nonsense. A youthful romance is a wonderful story I’d love to hear. How did you guys meet?”

“Well, she was manning this flower shop that I was visiting in France.”

“In France?”

“Yes, the country neighboring ours.”

“Of course, I know. France, the country that abolished monarchy some decades ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, the country has a bit of a sad history...but it is beautiful. I was there for work. Her shop caught my eye because of a lily. They’re not unpopular, but it was so breathtaking. I felt like I couldn’t look away. That makes me sound like a sap, but do you know what I mean?”

The old lady nodded, eyes shimmering. “I do.”

“It was absolutely gorgeous. It reminded me of something, you know? When you get that feeling that you just _know_ som"ething.”

The lady smiled again. “Yes.”

“Anyways, it turned out to be her favorite flower too. We started talking and...before I knew it, well… Here I am.”

“Here you are,” the lady agreed.

Adrien beamed at the kind old woman again. A reflective object shone in her hair, and Adrien glanced at it. “That’s a nice hair pin you have there.” It was the fleur-de-lis—a sign of the monarchy, though it’s been over fifty years since its abolishment. He thought it was strange of the kind, old lady to wear it in a country that hated the royals so much.

She touched it gingerly. “It was a gift from a dear friend.”

From her tone, Adrien knew it to be a tragedy. “Oh...I’m sorry,” Adrien told her.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. It was...a very long time ago.” He wanted to say something to console her, but the old lady turned towards him with a bright smile. “It’s funny how fast time flies, isn’t it?”

Adrien smiled, relaxing at the loosened tension. “Don’t I know it. It seems just like yesterday I was just an apprentice, trying to get the girl of my dreams to notice me. Now...well, I’m still only the helper around the shop, but my wife’s pregnant. _Pregnant._ I can hardly believe it.”

“Congratulation,” the old lady told him warmly. He was surprised to her eyes glimmering. “Do you know what it’s going to be?”

“My wife is certains it’s going to be a boy, but I know the baby is a girl. But in case she’s right, and she is pretty often, I’ve got two sets of names picked out.” The lady tilted her head, waiting for him to continue. “Louis. I know it’s a controversial name, given how everyone hates and abolished the monarchy, but I think there’s a certain magic in not listening to what people say.”

She kept smiling, but her eyes were downcast. “And if it’s a girl?” she whispered.

“...And if it’s a girl, I want to name her Mari. It’s an adorable name, don’t you think?”

When he looked at her, the old lady was crying. Confused and worried, Adrien leaned forward with a hand outreached toward her shoulder and a question ready leave his lips before she smiled once more and said,

“It’s beautiful.”

 

 

 

 

 

The old woman thanked Adrien for his kindness and left on her way. Staring at her retreating back, Adrien felt something tug at his heart. Something familiar.

 _It reminded me of something, you know? When you get that feeling that you just_ know _something. You know that feeling?_

Oh! He forgot to ask for her name.

 

 

Well, he’ll probably never see her again anyways.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

“Ugh,” Marinette groaned, clutching her ripped sleeve. “I know it’s night out, but there’s _some_ stars out, and the entire village is lit up with candles—can’t you see where you’re riding your horse?”

There’s a burning sensation on her chaffed arms, but also deep in her chest. Marinette briefly decided that this rider is definitely the worst on horseback, if he can cause a pain so deep _inside_ her just by knocking her over with his steed.

“You could very well watch where _you’re_ going, miss,” the rider replied cheekily.

“Excuse me if I couldn’t get out of the way of a _running horse_ fast enough!” she snapped, looking up.

She registered the fine clothes first. Not many civilians owned coats of that caliber, even less would wear it on such an occasion of _horseback riding._ Marinette’s mouth practically watered by just observing the stitching of his coat. Such quality. She wanted to examine it closer.

“I’m looking for a shop,” the owner of the beautiful coat told her. He got off his horse and held out a hand to her. “I’ve heard it’s the best in this town, the employee's skills rivaling that of the royal attendants.”

“Wow.” Marinette raised her eyebrows. “That’s high praise. What shop is this, may I ask?”

“A tailor’s. I’m looking for someone to mend something special of mine.”

“A tailor?” Marinette repeated. Confused, she wracked her head. Other than the shop her master owned, there was no other tailor on this market street. The closest one had to be at least six blocks down.

Oh.

Her eyes widened.

He didn’t mean—

“Yes. The shop is called, Miraculous, if I’m not mistaken, and I’m looking for a tailor by the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

 

 

 

 

There was an upper class citizen in the shop.

_Upper class._

Marinette could scarcely believe what was happening, as she continued to examine the rips in the blanket. It was quite intense, and Marinette would probably just throw the blanket away herself but…

“It was my mother’s,” the man said. “She made it for me when I was a baby, and I slept with it ever since. It’s grown old with age...but I want to fix it.”

“I see.” She held the cloth up. Not impossible to fix but… “I have to make changes. There would be new, obvious changes, so it won’t look the same.”

“Would it be possible to minimize that? I only want the tears closed up.”

“Hmm…” Marinette smoothed a hand over the fabric. “I think so. There’s no way I can do this without adding anything that is visibly different, though.”

“That’s alright. As long as it’s as little as possible.”

“Then you’re officially a customer, Monsier…”

“Agreste,” the man said, extending a hand.

“Agreste,” Marinette repeated. “Come by in five days time, we’ll have it done by then.”

 

 

 

“ _Agreste?”_

Alya was definitely shrieking.

“Yes, what of it?”

“That’s one of the most noble families! Don’t you know anything?”

“Apparently not,” Marinette sighed. She put the blanket she was examining down and looked at her coworker. “So what, he serves the King tea or something?”

“I think even more than that. He probably dines with the royal family once in awhile.”

“Damn,” she whispered. Marinette leaned her head on her hand. “Are we skilled enough to be serving customers of that caliber?”

“Oh stop it!” Alya slapped Marinette’s head softly. “You _know_ you’re good.”

“Yeah, well…” She shrugged. “Good enough for royalty?”

“He’s not _royalty…_ ” Alya pondered. “Well, he looks good enough to be. He’s better looking than the prince!”

Marinette chortled. “And how, may I ask, do you know this?” Alya hadn’t seen Monsieur Agreste when he came in and last she checked, neither of the girls were wealthy enough to be granted access to the inner walls.

“I’ve seen paintings,” her companion waved a hand. “Trust me, this is our big break! He’ll be bringing in business like crazy, granted you do good work on that blanket.” Alya regarded the small little thing. “Didn’t realize that even rich nobles could be sentimental.”

“They’re human, too.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Of course, but by how much?”

 

 

 

He came by the next day.

“I may be skilled, but I’m no fairy godmother,” Marinette said without tearing her eyes away from her work. He had come in from down the street and she had glimpsed at the golden lining of one’s coat earlier, hoping it was him. From her periphery now, as she still pretended to be concentrated in the stitching, Marinette confirmed that it was. “It’s only been a one day, Monsieur Agreste.” She glanced at him then with a faint smile, her needle paused in her hand.

He was on his horse again, wearing that beautiful coat Marinette could die for. With a swift movement of his legs, Monsieur Agreste jumped off his horse. He took off his hat and with a sheepish grin, said, “I’m just checking on the progress. I’m very protective of this blanket, you see.”

“Made by your mother, you said?”

“Yes,” he murmured.

“And she’s not around to help you mend it, is she?”

Adrien had a ghost of a smile. “You’re not tact with your words.”

“Orphan,” Marinette answered, pointing to herself. “Around these parts, you’ll find more of those than you won’t. In the least, my parents taught me a trade before passing on.”

“Sewing?” he asked.

“Among others,” she replied vaguely, continuing with careful stitching. Holding the fabric up, Marinette questioned, “How’s this? I tried matching the thread to the fabric color, but there’s such a variety of colors that it’s a bit difficult to blend in. And see here, I’m trying to mimick the original stitchings…”

“It’s great work, thank you,” he said. “I would greatly appreciate it if you could continue the meticulous work you’re doing here as soon as possible. By tomorrow, if possible.”

“Monsieur Agreste,” Marinette started, laughing a little nervously, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I do have other orders to take care of. I can finish this in a less than a week, as accordance to our previous agreement, but…”

“I can pay you double!” he rushed to say, making Marinette blink. “It’s just that… it’s hard for me to sleep without it.”

 _That’s cute,_ she thought. “Alright...put only if you promise to hold your end of the deal of the double payment. I expect only the finest from such a noble.” Marinette quirked a smile, propping a hand at her hip.

“Then I expect only the finest from such an expert seamstress,” he shot back fluidly, looking pleased.

“Will you be coming back tomorrow then?”  

“If only to check up on my goods.”

“Buy something else from the shop while you’re at it, will ya?”

 

 

 

He doesn’t stop visiting.

Even after Marinette had finished up with the blanket (in two days time; Marinette was still no magician and had no powers to call her own except her expert skill), he still came by.

“I’m surprised,” Marinette told him the first day after their transaction had completed, “I didn’t realize a noble such as yourself would return here.”

Monsieur Agreste laughed softly and walked his horse to the side of the shop, tying the reins to a pole. He removed his hat and stopped in front of the counter. “What can I say? Your goods are one of the finest in this part of the country. The service that comes with it isn’t so bad either.”

Marinette couldn’t help the flush that reached her ears. It wasn’t everyday a customer complimented her work to this degree. “And are you looking to buy something else?”

And so their relationship continued on as so: He would stop by every once in awhile and purchase some goods. Marinette didn’t complain. She was making decent sales while receiving pleasant company. He would never hinder her other customers either, as he conveniently only stopped by during off hours.

Marinette didn’t even know his given name.

He never mentioned it, and she never bothered to ask him anyways. It made their relationship a little too _personal,_ more than customer and merchant. Besides, he was still a noble, no matter how friendly. Marinette would not break that barrier, unless he made the first move to do so.

So that was all their relationship was. But Marinette couldn’t deny that she did quite enjoy conversing with him, that this thing they had between them was something Marinette looked forward to everyday, and was disappointed with when he didn’t show up.

One night, a companion came to pick him up. It was close to closing hours, but the young noble had still made the trip out of the inner walls. There was scarcely any customers, and Marinette and he talked for a good hour or two. By now, even Marinette had noticed the _thing_ between them. She kept trying to convince herself otherwise, however, because there was no possible way that anything could happen between a noble and a commoner.

Monsieur Agreste’s companion also rode a horse, his stark white compared to Monsieur Agreste’s pitch black.The rider also had a darker complexion, and cleared his throat.

“Adrien,” his companion warned. Adrien turned around, looking like he had already expected this, and sighed. The dark skinned rider gave Marinette one look before looking back at his friend. “We must reach the wall before nightfall.”

“I have to be going now,” the man—Adrien, Marinette learned—said. He had made no purchase today, and it was clear to everyone Adrien had only come here to talk with her. The thought of that made Marinette’s heart rate increase.

“Of course.” Marinette cursed herself. Why was her voice so meek? Embarrassing. Though, not nearly as much as knowing that Adrien’s friend was watching their every move.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Marinette gave the companion another glance. He was frowning, a clear sign of disapproval. So Marinette answered, “Only if you’re planning on getting something from the shop.”

“Of course,” Adrien agreed, quirking a grin.

His companion cleared his throat once and both of them turned to look at him.

“That’s my cue,” he said, slipping his hat on and climbing onto his horse. “I’ll see you around, Marinette.” His horse began to retreat, following his companion’s white steed. Adrien kept his eyes locked on hers until he had to turn them back to the road.

 

 

 

 

 

“He’s a _noble,_ ” Marinette anguished.

“So?” Alya fanned herself with a leaf. “I’ve seen those looks; he’s in love with you.”

Marinette ignored this. “A _noble._ It’s wrong! Some can’t even be seen talking to people like us!”

“People like us?” Alya quoted, raising an eyebrow. “We’re seamstresses, not slaves.”

“Either way, a noble like him wouldn’t even look twice at low class citizens.”

“Twice, thrice, a hundred times, of course not.”

“ _Alya.”_

“Trust me, Marinette.” Alya pointed her fan-leaf at her. “He is smitten.”

She glanced at the dirt. “You know nothing can happen.”

“Aha!” Alya leaped up from the stool, still pointing. “You admit it!”

Marinette swatted the leaf away. “I admit nothing.”

“Ha ha ha!” her best friend cheered, practically dancing, pointing foolishly at Marinette. “You’re in _love_ with him! _You!”_

“Shush! Do you want the whole market to hear your squabbling voice?”

 _“You’re in love with him!”_ Alya whispered—barely. Marinette groaned, bowing her head in her hands. “I can’t believe this! Are you ever going to tell him?”

“No!” Marinette slapped Alya’s pointing hands away. “Of course not—how could you even suggest that? You _know_ I can’t.”

“What do you mean you _can’t?_ Just walk up to him, confess your undying love! He comes by the shop almost every day to swoon at you, it won’t be hard.”

“He does _not_ swoon at me. He doesn’t even come by that often!”

“Of course, what was I thinking, claiming that one of our top ten regular customers was Adrien! Silly me, you know how bad I can be at math.”

“Oh, enough with the sarcasm.” Marinette shoved her friend. “And after I confess? We can’t be together.”

“Stop being melodramatic. He’s not the _prince._ You can see him!”

“He’s a _noble._ It’s most improper. Sure, he’s not to inherit the country, but he is to inherit _some_ land.”

“And a piece of land matters what? It’s not like his land is vying for his love. You, on the other hand…”

“I’m not vying for _anything._ But Alya, face it. When it comes to social matters...reputation, how our relationship would look to others…” Marinette stared down at her hands. “He would be ruined.”

“He seems more than willing to risk that for you.”

“Who would? A man of considerable wealth risking that for _me.”_ Marinette meant it to be a dry point to get Alya off her back, but when she glanced at her friend, Alya was pointing with her fan behind her.

Marinette turned, realizing that Alya’s statement earlier was not a tease, but more of an actual fact, as she saw Adrien’s figure come closer and closer to the shop.

He reached the entrance, where he was only separated from where Alya and she sat by the threshold of the door.

Adrien took off his hat.

They stared at each other in silence. Marinette wasn’t sure if she should say hello, invite him in, or show him another selection of fabrics—all of which Adrien probably already has, considering his hefty purchases from whenever he visited. Which was very often _,_ as Alya had so kindly pointed out.

“Okay,” her “best friend” said slowly, emphasizing the _awkward_ in the air, “I’m going to go to the back and inventorize any inventory that hasn’t been...inventoried.”

Both Adrien and Marinette stared in silence at Alya’s obvious retreat, before Adrien cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Marinette.

“Marinette—”

“It’s not Marinette,” she blurted. “It’s Miss. You’re not—you can’t be here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not allowed to buy a new cloak?”

“No,” Marinette rejected, “because we both know that’s not why you’re here.”

Adrien immediately flushed. Marinette cocked her head, observing. He didn’t red easily, so when he did, it was undeniably cute.

“I’m—I—that’s not why I’m here.”

Marinette folded her arms. “Really?”

“Yes.” He grabbed the first fabric on the stand Marinette had set up that morning. “I’m here to buy...this.”

“You do realize that’s a corset.”

“What!” Adrien yelped, practically throwing the cloth back down. Marinette laughed outright and Adrien looked back down. It was a scarf.

“That wasn’t very nice, _Miss,”_ he scowled, neck red as he folded the blue cloth and placed it back where it was.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face! Monsieur Agreste, flustered! I’m sure the King himself hasn’t ever seen you like that.”

“No,” Adrien agreed, “you’re often the only one who sees parts of me I show no one else.”

Marinette silenced. Her laughter that had seemed so present just a moment ago disappeared instantly. Fleeting. That’s what this was. “Adrien,” she began.

“Marinette, please. Let me speak.” He grasped her hands, and she looked up, eyes wide and burning. “I don’t care that I’m a noble. I don’t care that you’re not. I just want to ask you...if you could give me a chance. If I could just know you better.”

“Adrien—”

“Just idle chatter. We don’t need to start anything. I want to be your friend first. I love talking with you and having fun with you. We can be friends, can’t we? Could you promise me that?” He held up a pinky.

Marinette stared at it, then his eyes, before nodding. “Okay,” she said, hooking her finger with his, “I promise.”

 

 

 

 

They _were_ friends. Of course they were. But they should’ve known, it was unstoppable, the feeling between them.

 

 

 

 

 

“You can’t sacrifice your title for _me._ ”

“I don’t care about that. I never did.” Adrien clasped her hands. “I care about _you._ ”

“Adrien…” Marinette pulled her hands away, standing up. “War is brewing. You need to ready your armies.”

“I’m no general. I’m not even the Lord, because I haven’t inherited anything. I don’t need to be anywhere.”

She touched his cheek. “Even you know where you need to be.”

He looked at her and she looked back. Staring at those green eyes in moonlight told her all she needed to know: he knew. But still, he laid a hand on top of hers and closed his eyes. Adrien whispered, “What if the place I _want_ to be is with you?”

“You must go,” she told him, “Your people needs you.”

“You _are_ my people.”

“I’m your _person._ You have an entire province to protect.”

Adrien bowed his head. “Why are you always right, Mari?”

“Because I am.” She smiled. “Brilliant, that is.”

“Of course.” He raked a hand through his hair. “How could I ever forget, _princess?_ ”

Marinette frowned. “You know I hate that name.”

“Why?” He leaned forward, brushing her bangs back. “Because I’m a noble?”

“No, because you sound like you’re asking for something you can never have.”

Adrien touched their foreheads together. He thought of the battle he must leave for, then at the girl who had made him want to forget about everything he knew. Who had to wait. “I am.”

Marinette kissed him then, even though she knew it’ll never be enough. When they parted, he said, “When the battle is over, I’ll come back.” He unwrapped the scarf she made him ( _a gift,_ she told him, fitting it around him snuggly) and enwrapped Marinette in it. “Then I’ll finally have what ‘I could never have’.”

“Don’t tempt fate,” she reprimanded, but Marinette was smiling.

“And you’ll wait for me?”

“Right here, under these stars, even after they burn away.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stars don’t shine, they burn.

They burn like Adrien Agreste’s body in his grandiose funeral. A funeral made fit for a man of his status.

Marinette didn’t attend.

There was no way a commoner like she could be allowed to enter a ceremony of this caliber.

She took the scarf she made him, the one he wrapped around her, and hugged it to her body one last time, before lighting it aflame and speaking aloud.

“Go back to the stars, and we shall meet under them once again.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Why, why, why_

Planes flew overhead, bombs blasted around, blood poured from everywhere.

Her heart pounded, her heart stopped, her heart—

Felt like it was breaking for the millionth time.

Why had he done it? It was stupid; they were soldiers, one bullet wasn’t going to make a difference.

But he had slammed into her anyways, shielding her from an onslaught of bullets that surely would prove to be fatal. Because pulling her back into the trench wouldn’t have been quick enough, and he had been willing to risk his own life.

“Adrien!” she screamed, foregoing any code names, any sense of formality. There were no second lieutenants or Heroes here, just him and her, just Adrien and Marinette, just—

Just him lying on the bloody battlefield.

Marinette gathered his bleeding body in her hands, pulling him into the trench she was supposed to be hiding in. But she hadn’t been hiding in it, leaving her open to the enemy, leaving her vulnerable to the guns and grenades, leaving Adrien to use his own body as a shield to protect hers.

Tears fell as she tried—tried, and failed to plug the never ending flow of blood coming from Adrien’s abdomen. He looked unconscious, but the slight strain and wrinkle around his eyes told Marinette otherwise.

There were fires around, volleys of bullets and bombs, grenades thrown above. They were all scattered across the land, and it could've been gorgeous, what with the multicolored reds and oranges and yellows, the embers sinking into the night like sparkling dust. It would've been gorgeous, if not for the cries of soldiers filling in the destruction of their city.

“Adrien, look,” Marinette sobbed. “Don’t they look like stars?”

He didn’t say anything, but Adrien opened his eyes. As she saw the fires reflected in his eyes, she knew what he was thinking.

“We’re under the stars, just like we promised.” Marinette bowed her head, touching her forehead to his. She pleaded to the skies, to the stars they have worshiped for over a millennium, to fate. “Please, please. You promised me. The stars, Adrien. _Don’t leave me.”_

His chest raised with his inhale; Marinette shot up to look at him. He was okay, he was okay, surely, he was breathing, so he must be okay.

Adrien’s face was pale. There was blood flowing from his mouth. It was then Marinette decided that fate couldn’t exist, because if they did, they were cruel enough to put them through this kind of misery all over again.

“No,” she begged, “Please don’t.”

He was saying something, she had to catch it, she _needed_ to hear it before—

 

 

 

“Next time,” he croaked, “Next time, m’lady.”

 

 

 

 

 

Fate had done them in again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“I love you,” he said. “Did I say that yet?”

“Yes,” Marinette answered, smiling under the mug of her coffee. “You said that already.”

“Well, that’s not enough. I love you.”

“If you keep going, you’ll never get your orders done.” Marinette nodded at the stack of paperwork Adrien needed to finish before four. The coffeeshop Marinette studied at always came with the carefree barista who never relented. Adrien smiled cheekily at her, leaning on one of his palms over the counter that divided him.

“Ah, who cares.” Adrien waved his other hand. “I’ll just leave them for Nino to do, or something.”

“That’s not very nice. Your best employee finally takes a day off and he comes back to what? Five days of paperwork?”

“It’s not _five_ days worth.” Adrien pondered the stack before him. “Maybe one and a half.”

“Just get to it.” Marinette pointed at it with her pen. “And stop bothering me. I need to finish these notes for Friday’s exam.”

“Hmm…” Adrien folded his hands on top of each other atop the counter, placing his chin on his right hand. “What do you say we close the shop and go for a walk in the park?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “You’re not serious.”

“Okay, fine. The record shop.” Marinette didn’t budge. “Blockbusters? Come on, you have to want to do _something._ ”

“I do,” she agreed. “My work. Stop bothering me.”

“It would be our first date,” Adrien mourned wistfully, “and you won’t even want to close the shop with me! How rude. Woe am I—”

“Oh, shut it.” Marinette clicked her pen shut. “It’s hardly our first date.”

“You sitting here while you work on whatever design or homework you need to work on while I make coffee on a minimum wage of almost five an hour does not equate to a _date._ A _date_ is where we go to somewhere nice—like the park, but I’ll take the record shop or Blockbusters—and I’ll give you some compliment that will win you over to let me hold you hand and at the end, maybe you’ll give me the privilege of kissing you, because that’s something I’ve been dreaming about for a while. _That’s_ a date.”

Marinette sighed—because no matter how happy he makes her, she can’t let him know that _too_ obviously. She had to make him work a little. So Marinette pushed her blush away and the butterflies back down into the pit of her stomach, and clicked her pen once more. Just to make sure her “exasperation” is clear. Marinette looked up and fixed him with a mildly annoyed stare. “How about this: you finish that paperwork and leave me alone, and I’ll think about going to park with you, alright?”

“As in a date?”

“As in a date.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And there will be snacks?”

“And there will be snacks.”

“We can visit the joke shop by the fountain?”

“We can visit the joke shop by the fountain.”

“You’ll make me any treat I want, everyday?”

“Adrien, how stupid do you think I am?"

 

 

 

She could hardly keep her grin down.

Clutching the bouquet of lilies, Marinette buried her face in the cellophane, breathing in the heavenly smell of it.

What would his expression be when she showed up?

She pictured a gleeful smile, one that was completely and utterly unrestrained, delighted and _happy,_ before the tips of his ears turn red and he flushed shyly. She pictured him smartly commenting of her masculinity in their relationship, but breathing in the aroma their flower anyways. She pictured him taking a single stem out, clipping the extra, and brushing it behind her ear before Marinette swatted his hand away, protesting against pollen in her locks and that the flower was far too large for cheesy antics like that.

There was so many things Marinette couldn’t wait for, didn’t know why she stayed away from him for so long. Why she was so _afraid_ of being with him.

But she should’ve known. She should’ve known being together with him, her _happiness_ with him was merely ephemeral.

Marinette ran across the sidewalk, skidding across the pavement as she made a sharp turn around the corner. She sprinted with her heart in her throat, knowing that in two more blocks, her favorite coffeeshop (that came with her favorite barista) will come into view.

But instead of the sign that hung on the side of the building, Marinette saw a blinding yellow light flash before her eyes, then a honking towards her left (a truck, of course, how _cliche_ —) and she thought—

_Ah. It’s you again, fate._

—before everything faded to black.

 

 

 

 

 

He buried her in the lilies.

They were the ones she had been holding, no doubt a bouquet for him. The flowers were crushed and decimated but he didn't care and he knew she would've have either. Not when all her feelings were held in this bouquet she would never be able to give.

He stood in front of her grave, wondering how many years it has been since he had first did this.

“Please,” he asked, to any of the million stars who would listen, “When can we meet again? When can we be together, and be _happy?_ ”

Adrien looked up, standing under the stars where they made their promise, at the stars who shimmered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Adrien?”

He turned.

She took a sigh, and looked up.

His face shone with that certain understanding, the expression that he had worn so many times in the years that have passed, the one that said, _yeah, I know._

She took a deep breath.

“Can I talk to you?”

 

 

 

“So you’re Ladybug.”

“And _you’re_ Chat Noir.”

“Did you imagine we’d do it like this?”

“What, our reveal or…”

 

 

 

His fingers brushed her as he went to hold the stem of the lily she was offering. It was the afternoon, they were indoors, but even if they weren’t visible, even if they couldn't shine beneath all the pollution, the two still stood under the stars as they promised to be.

 

 

 

“Or our reunion?”

“You think they’d let us have it this time?”

He wrapped a hand around her waist and pulled her in. She wound her hands around his neck, careful not to crush the lily between them.

He smiled.

The sight pulled at her all at once. It was all the little tips-of-the-tongue bursting inside her, the heartstrings she felt over a hundred decades tugging all at once. Whether he was superior, or inferior, or her comrade, or her partner in some magical, superheroic duty—that was the smile she was in love with. Her lips instinctively widened, a grin beaming.

“They better.”

**Author's Note:**

> I realized halfway through writing this that I kept killing Adrien off, so I decided to give Marinette some deaths too.  
> If you're interesting in reading some of Adrien's original deaths (among other delete scenes), check out my [ tumblr. ](http://perseuesjackson.tumblr.com/post/167541384007/under-the-stars-we-met-deleted-scenes)
> 
>  
> 
> The reincarnations were somewhat based off of tropes and were set in a lot of different places: childhood friends, princess and servant + French Revolution, old/young age and the aftermath of said Revolution, upper class and lower class in unnamed European country, World War One (or any war), 90's in America, and present day Miraculous Ladybug.
> 
> Marinette and Adrien don’t know that they’re reincarnated right off the bat, but sometimes they figure it out.


End file.
